A Spark (2) - 35

A/N: So, obviously, I've been gone for the past few days, and well, all I can say is that I'm sorry. First, there was a test that I had to do, so I couldn't upload then, and afterwards, I had a multiple day debate tournament that spanned from 7 in the morning to 11 at night each day, so it was impossible for me to write. Anyways, I just wanted to show y'all that I haven't been slacking, and that I've actually had life stuff that required more attention, so, I hope y'all can understand why I haven't been updating. Welp, enjoy the chapter!

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"Clang! Clang! Clang!"

To us, there was only the sounds of our swords clashing and the movements of the other as we continued to dance around the sparring circle, trying our best not to falter to the other's initiative.

After all, she was obviously superior in terms of power, but I was obviously superior in terms of skill and technique.

This balanced us out completely, but now, I was going to stop using just one sword style.

Changing my flow abruptly, instead of long, fast sword strikes, I started using slower, drawn out sword slashes that focused mainly on parrying the opponent's attacks in just one single flowing motion.

Immediately after I switched sword styles, Vasilie frowned and tried to adapt, but, she had already gotten too used to my old sword style and so, she immediately started to falter.

You see, I had purposely done this as to make her used to blocking in a certain way, to counterattacking in a certain way, so her subconscious brain was heavily unprepared for this new sword style that was being wielded by the same old me.

A little bit flustered, she started trying to adapt, but a second later, I hit her wrist and her wooden sword was sent flying out of the sparring circle.

She was confused at first, as she just continued waving her hand through the air as if she was still wielding a sword, but, as soon as she realized what had happened, she just froze, still in the middle of a sword stance, staring blankly at my face.

"You've gotten complacent. Rule 1 of Being a Swordsman: Never let your guard down, ever."

As if the wooden sword had a life of its own, the sword that had previously fallen to the ground was whipped back into Vasilie's hand, causing her to flinch.

"Again."

Not giving her any time to think, I attacked, this time, with another sword style that had never been seen before.

After all, what were those 203,000 years for, if not to use all the techniques that I read about and learned, in real life?

I started constantly switching sword styles, never leaving anything that could be used to predict my movements, letting myself get hit in a few non-lethal places as I completely crushed Vasilie afterwards.

Finally, after only a timespan of 10 minutes, she fell to the ground, too battered and bruised to be able to stand up correctly.

"I'm disappointed."

Those two words rang out across the training hall as all the others had been watching us in silence, horror apparent in their eyes.

As for Vasilie, she could only show a shocked, humiliated expression as she was finally able to cognitively process what had happened, before a look of utter defeat invaded her eyes, darkening them.

That was her breaking point as her eyes rolled up and into the back of her head, and her body fell forward, her sword having already been released from her grip.

The others in the training hall only watched on as they expected her to fall and smack her head on the ground.

Yet, her face never touched the ground, and wasn't even bruised in the first place as I had made a point to avoid it, as I caught her in my arms.

Holding her up in a princess carry, I got up from a one knee kneeling position and walked through the crowd that had been watching, as they parted like the Red Sea to let me through.

Gingerly holding her, making sure that her clothes covered up all of her bruises, so that her honor wouldn't be hurt any more, I carried her all the way to my room and placed her on my bed.

"Char." I muttered, softly, my voice fully masked by the chirping of a bird outside my window.

"Yes, Young Master?" Asked Char, as she appeared right next to me, as if she had been there all this time.

"Please assist me in treating her."

Char nodded, and immediately, gauze and a old type of disinfectant appeared in her hands.

I then moved to Vasilie's purple and swollen legs, whilst Char started on her arms that were in a similar, sorry state.

It took an hour of hard work before we were fully done.

Afterwards, Char left to do other stuff, probably something to do with the children, whilst I stayed there in a chair that I had placed next to the bed.

Just sitting there, I waited for Vasilie to wake up.

...

I woke up to find myself in a strange room.

'Wait, did I just get transmigrated?'

'Huh? Wait, what does that word even mean?'

Confused about my own thoughts, I quickly shot up into a sitting position and looked around.

I immediately noticed that it was nighttime, and that I wasn't alone in the room, apparent by the fact that the moonlight filtering through the blinds was faintly illuminating the serene, sleeping face of Lysander Endendyk, who had fallen asleep with his head placed on top of his hands which had been on top of this bed, still in a position where his eyes, if open, had been watching my sleeping face.

After I spent some time studying the room, I then turned my attention to my body, which had been treated with the highest precision and care, so much so that I could probably walk by myself and use my arms again, just a mere few hours after I was utterly destroyed.

'I lost?'

This was the first thing that I thought about, as the shock of losing hit me.

After all, I was a prodigy that had been likened to the current hero of this generation, yet, I had lost to the prophesied demon of this era?

I was humiliated, but, from this experience, I was also enlightened.

It was obvious after all, how well off I was with my enormous mana pool, whilst he had won entirely due to his skills, which he had definitely worked to the bone to attain.

Thinking about it, I came to the conclusion that it was only right for him to be the one that had won.

His hard work had been demonstrated in full view during that fight.

Yet, a part of myself, my pride, wouldn't let me accept this defeat, causing my thoughts to turn into a whirlwind of mush, with not much being done.

And, there was one more thought that added to this unidentifiable frenzy.

'D-did he... treat me?'

Honestly, I couldn't understand, couldn't even comprehend what I was feeling or thinking right now, as I continued to ruminate whilst staring blankly at the wall.

I finally came to a single conclusion that made sense of all that had happened.

'Was I just... cared for? Was all of that... to teach me?'

But, just a second later, I refuted my own thought.

'Impossible.'

Yet, why did I feel a tingling... warmth(?) in my chest?

Sighing, I just suppressed whatever this feeling was deep inside my mindscape, before turning my head towards the window and looking at the enchanting full moon backdropped by the stars that dotted the sky.

I would just wait to see what tomorrow would bring.